


But Listen To Your Heart (before you tell him goodbye)

by umakoo



Series: and the crown it weighs heavy [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha rut, Alpha!Gladio, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Gentiana/Luna if you squint, Gladio whump, M/M, Mutual Pining, omega!Noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 05:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18439997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/pseuds/umakoo
Summary: A sequel to my A/B/O AUTrue Nature.Noctis and Gladio struggle to stick to their destined roles.





	But Listen To Your Heart (before you tell him goodbye)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if there's anyone left to ship Gladio/Noctis these days, but I recently revisited FFXV and found myself inspired to come back to this particular AU. It's been two years since I wrote the first fic, but I've wanted to give Gladio and Noctis a happy ending all this time, so here we are :)
> 
> This is an A/B/O fusion that mixes both AU and canon elements. Most of the events from Kingsglaive and the early chapters of the game happened, but certain characters and plot elements (Ardyn, the Crystal, Starscourge) don't exist in this world or have been altered. I recommend reading [True Nature](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924542) first.
> 
> A BIG thanks to Cleo for agreeing to beta read my fic even after all this time!

The sun filters through the ornate glass windows and bathes Noctis and Luna in a pool of light as they stand before the high priest. It’s like something out of a fairytale. Truly, a wedding for the ages.

 

Luna is almost blindingly radiant, her lily-white dress in perfect contrast with the dark velvet of Noctis’ kingly raiment. She has her slender fingers enclosed between Noctis’ gloved palms, the banners above their heads rustling softly.

 

Both of them look like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders.

 

And maybe they do, Gladio thinks, as he watches them from the sidelines with Ignis and Prompto.

 

The cathedral is packed full, several representatives from the state media present, their cameras pointed at the altar. So much rests on this union between Tenebrae and Lucis and their young leaders, and if this is what it takes to finally forge peace with the Niffs, personal feelings have no place in the mix. 

 

The guests watch on in awe, a royal wedding something most common folk don’t get to witness with their own eyes, and even Prompto bounces on his heels, as enthralled by the scene as the rest of the guests.

 

Gladio’s sweating under the stiff fabric of his uniform, and his fingers twitch with the urge to tug on the stifling collar. He tastes bile in his mouth, but he refuses to look away, staring resolutely at the altar.

 

There’s a shift in the air as the priest finally gets to the part everyone’s been waiting for, the silence that descends into the room heavy with anticipation.

 

“Do you, Noctis Lucis Caelum, heir to the throne of Lucis, take Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, the Oracle of Tenebrae, to be your legally wedded wife–”

 

Gladio tears his gaze away from Noctis and Luna, the flash of pain that shoots through his chest at the priest’s words hurting a lot more than he anticipated.

 

He was supposed to be ready for this, was the one who kept Noctis on the path that led them here, but it’s all he can do to keep himself from storming up to the altar and carrying Noct away like some barbarian.

 

“– in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

 

Gladio balls his hands into fists, the leather of his gloves straining against his knuckles, and his jaw aches with how hard he’s gritting his teeth. He sees Ignis shift beside him, smells the small burst of anxiety in the air between them, and he forces himself to unclench his hands.

 

He looks up at the nervous buzz that begins to echo in the cavernous room. The guests have begun to glance around, whispering to each other as all eyes are drawn to Noctis. Gladio turns his eyes to the altar, and his stomach lurches when he realizes that Noctis has yet to give the priest his answer.

 

His lips are parted and he looks dazed like he’s about to slip into stasis, his eyes fixed on Gladio.

 

Gladio stares back, equally frozen and pinned down by Noctis’ gaze. His skin prickles and he feels a drop of sweat roll down his neck as more and more people begin to follow Noctis’ line of sight to Gladio.

 

Luna turns her head to look over her shoulder, and her brother, who stands on the opposite side of the room, becomes more alert, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he stares at Gladio across the sunlit aisle. 

 

_ Dammit, Noct, don’t look at me, look at Luna. _

 

Luna’s brow twitches in confusion and she gives Noctis’ hands a small tug, but Noctis’s eyes remain glued to Gladio.

 

The situation finally unravels when Ignis coughs into his fist, the sound snapping Noctis out of whatever haze he’s in.

 

Noctis tears his gaze away and struggles to swallow, the sound awkwardly loud in the anticipating silence. He gives Luna a weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, visibly flustered as he nods at the priest.

 

“Yeah. I mean, I do.”

 

Gladio blows out a quiet breath through the seam of his lips, and the guests in the pews seem equally relieved.

 

When the priest presents Luna with the same question, her eyes flick briefly to Gentiana who smiles serenely at her from Ravus’ side, but she gives her answer with nary a delay.

 

And so they are married, their nations one step closer to peace with the Empire.

 

Gladio stares at his boots as Luna and Noctis share their first kiss, and he’s suddenly desperate to be out of the cathedral and the whole stinkin' city.

 

He never touched Noctis’ mating spot in a manner that truly mattered, but the bond that existed between them long before the truth of Noctis’ nature came out runs deep. It taunts him with a bitter sense of loss as the bells in the gilded towers above begin to ring a joyous tune.

 

The crowd that waits in the plaza breaks into loud cheers as the large doors are pushed open and Noctis escorts his bride out of the church, the joy over the union between Lucis and Tenebrae overflowing.

 

Gladio follows Ignis and Prompto out of the cathedral, instantly alert as his eyes land on the swarm of people gathered in the plaza. His stomach gives an agitated roll when he realizes he’s lost sight of their prince, and he’s about to push into the crowd when Ignis’ hand around his bicep makes him halt in his steps.

 

“It’s alright, Gladio, you can relax. You’re not on duty today.” Ignis points to the bottom of the stairs where Noctis and Luna wave at the happy crowd, both of them flanked by the city guard.

 

Gladio watches as they’re escorted to a beautifully decorated gondola, and something in his chest jolts when his eyes catch with Noctis’.

 

Noctis looks overwhelmed, like he’s sleepwalking through the whole thing. He continues to stare at Gladio over his shoulder as he stumbles into the gondola, and Gladio forces himself to look away and break the connection.

 

“So, what’s next?” Prompto asks as he tries to stand on his toes to catch a glimpse of Noctis and Luna over the crowd.

 

“Noct and Luna will perform a small tour around the city before joining Madam Claustra at her manor for the official wedding reception.”

 

“And we’re invited, right?”

 

“Naturally,” Ignis nods. “Though I suspect it’s not a very festive event, just a room full of politicians and various dignitaries trying to make sense of the newly forged peace.”

 

Gladio’s mouth twists into a snarl. “Yeah, count me out. You can’t pay me to go into a room full of Niffs. This peace with them cost us our lands and the life of our king, and now Noctis is–” He cuts himself off and glares at the bells that continue to ring in the towers above their head.

 

Ignis watches him over the rim of his glasses, his eyes sympathetic, like he knows exactly what Gladio is thinking. Because of course he does.

 

“I’m off,” Gladio announces with a wave of his hand, forcing himself a path through the crowd with the broad bulk of his shoulders.

 

He prowls the maze of streets until he finds himself a place to get drunk, and because this is Altissia, the price of the drinks is gonna burn a hole in his wallet before the day is over. Gladio struggles to give a shit.

 

He downs three shots of Accordoan whiskey before he takes a break to order a serving of cup noodles and a bottle of ridiculously expensive beer. The bartender regards him with a raised brow when he delivers him his noodles, and Gladio is tempted to tell the guy to top it off with a thousand-gil truffle to make it more gourmet, but he’d only end up losing more money, so he keeps his mouth shut.

 

The wedding is everywhere, on the radio and the TV behind the bar, pictures of Luna and Noctis’ forced smiles flashing on the screen as they greet the adoring masses. Luna is almost convincing in her well-rehearsed elegance, but Noctis never liked attention and it shows. His hair hangs over his face as he tries to hide behind it, and his posture would give Ignis a stroke were he there to witness it.

 

_ “Earlier today, thousands of people gathered to watch as the newlyweds toured the city before joining Madam Secretary Claustra for the official wedding reception.” _

 

Gladio lifts his eyes from his noodles to watch the dark-haired news anchor on the TV. The colors of her blazer expose her allegiance to the Empire, which means that whatever comes out of her mouth will be Niff-friendly.

 

_ “The historical peace between Lucis and the great Empire of Niflheim was achieved just six weeks after the death of King Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII, who lost his life in the month-long Occupation of Insomnia. His Radiance Emperor Aldercapt assures that all insurgents involved in the conflict have been punished accordingly.” _

 

Gladio rolls his eyes at the TV as he drains the last of his beer. The power-hungry old bastard was probably the one behind the whole attack, but it won’t be in any history book.

 

_ “The treaty secures full autonomy for both Tenebrae and the Crown City, while the remaining territories in Lucis have been annexed to the great Empire of Niflheim.” _

 

The day wears on and Gladio continues to drink until his sight is blurry enough to ignore the world around him, including the looping videos in the TV. He’s vaguely aware of someone sliding into the seat next to him, but he keeps his eyes on the counter, his fingers wrapped around the cool surface of his beer bottle.

 

“A beautiful wedding, don’t you think?”

 

Gladio blinks as the voice triggers an alarm bell somewhere in the back of his inebriated mind. It’s familiar, grating in its haughty insincerity. He lifts his head and shifts in his seat to glare at his unwanted company.

 

“Ravus,” Gladio growls, though the slur in his voice takes some of the bite out. “The hell are you doing here?”

 

Ravus smirks at him and holds up a finger, pointing at something in the row of expensive bottles behind the bartender.

 

“Oh, I just fancied a little drink.”

 

Gladio’s brow knots in mounting irritation. “And you couldn’t find another joint to water your mouth at? Anyway, shouldn’t you be heading back to Niflheim to lick your wounds in some deep, dark, hole? Heard you were  _ dishonorably discharged _ after the Glaive drove you out of Insomnia with your tail between your legs.”

 

Ravus ignores his insult, taking a sip of the drink the bartender sets before him.

 

Gladio rolls his eyes and smacks his own bottle down on the counter, sliding off his chair. “Fine, I guess I was ready for a change of scenery anyway.” He pulls out a wad of gils from his wallet and leaves them next to his half-empty bottle, about to walk out of the bar when a firm grip on his shoulder forces him to stop.

 

“Watch it,” Gladio growls through gritted teeth, glaring at Ravus’ hand.

 

He knows Ravus is an alpha like him, can smell it in his stench as it turns sour with the threat of hostility. They watch each other, the strange gaze in Ravus’ mismatched eyes challenging, but he finally removes his hold on Gladio’s uniform and gives his lapels a mocking wipe.

 

“I trust we can both agree that the peace between the Empire and your little kingdom has come at a steep price,” Ravus says, his voice so low that Gladio has to move closer to hear him. “My dear sister has lived a life of loss and sacrifice, always putting other people’s needs ahead of her own. It would be  _ unfortunate _ if something jeopardized the peace treaty.”

 

“What’s your point?” Gladio asks impatiently, because the Fleurets aren’t the only ones who have had to make sacrifices.

 

Ravus stops speaking in riddles and goes straight for the jugular. “I don’t know what’s between you and your king–”

 

“Ain’t nothing between us,” Gladio cuts in, regretting the denial and the defensive tone that slips into it the moment it’s out.

 

“I’m sure,” Ravus scoffs, “Nevertheless, I will not allow my sister’s sacrifice to be for nothing. Do what you will behind closed doors. I care not. But the peace my sister and your little king have forged comes before all else.” He gives Gladio a hard look. “Do you agree?”

 

“Yeah, I agree,” Gladio hisses through his teeth. “Like I said, there ain’t nothing between Noct and I. I’m his Shield and that’s it.”

 

Ravus arches his brow and shoots Gladio an amused look, slithering around him like a snake. “Don’t you mean you  _ were  _ his Shield?”

 

Gladio shakes his head, taken aback by Ravus’ question. “The hell are you talking about?”

 

“What role do you think you’ll play now that your king is married and we have peace between our nations? Your duty is done, is it not? Your king has no further need of your services once he and my sister settle into Fenestala Manor,” Ravus says, like he’s stating the obvious and Gladio is too slow to follow. “He’ll have plenty of capable protectors with Tenebrae’s best at his side. I assure you,  _ their  _ hands never waver.”

 

Gladio has to bite back the snarl that threatens to claw its way up his throat, his hands clenching at his sides as Ravus continues to circle him.

 

“Perhaps you’d find more use for your skills among the Glaive?” he continues, the glint in his eyes a little manic as he smells Gladio’s hesitation. “I hear they have their hands full trying to restore order in your battered city.”

 

“You’d know all about it,” Gladio retorts, and the reminder of Ravus’ involvement in the attack on Insomnia sends his blood boiling. Some might argue that his reasons were misguided, but Gladio has no intention to forgive or to forget.

 

Ravus ignores the barb and turns to finish his drink, the crooked smile he shoots Gladio over his shoulder leaving his canines exposed. “As I said before, peace is all that matters. And I imagine your king could do with one less  _ distraction _ in his life.”

 

Gladio strides out of the bar to prevent bloodshed on a day that’s supposed to be all about peace, but Ravus’ words continue to bounce around in his head as he wanders through Altissia’s festive nightlife, the whole city still buzzing about the wedding.

 

There’s a massive banner hanging over the Artisan Square, Noctis and Luna’s faces gazing down at the people gathered around it.

 

Gladio stops to stare at the strained smile on Noctis’ lips, the gaze in his blue eyes almost vacant. He knows Ignis helped Noctis to go back on his heavy-duty suppressants the moment they reached Altissia, dulling his senses and replacing his scent with something artificial.

 

Gladio thinks back to the night they shared in Lestallum. He knows it’s a mistake that never should have happened, but he’s too selfish to regret it, still yearning for something that isn’t his to yearn.

 

Noctis should dismiss Gladio from his service, because he  _ is _ a distraction. He could see it in Noctis’ eyes as he stood on the altar with Luna.

 

And if Noctis can’t be strong, Gladio has to be strong for him.

 

He takes one more look at Noctis’ face in the banner and steels his heart as he realizes what has to be done.

 

 

*****

 

 

There’s a large group of tourists in the hotel lobby, all of them swarming at the front desk as one of them argues with the receptionist.

 

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’re full, there simply isn’t any way for us to accommodate you at this time,” the receptionist explains, looking a little frayed.

 

“Where am I supposed to take the youngins then? They gonna sleep on the streets?” the alpha at the desk asks, and Gladio can smell his frustration all the way to the elevator.

 

“Come on, Pops, you’re making a scene,” one of his children mutters, tugging on her father’s sleeve. “We’ll just have to try some other hotel, it don’t have to be so fancy either.”

 

The girl sounds like she’s from Leide, and she’s clearly not on any scent blockers like the local omegas. Gladio guesses she’s in town for the royal wedding and he feels a little guilty as he takes the elevator up to their royal sweet, large enough to house her entire family.

 

He begins to unbutton his uniform the moment he’s through the door, blowing out a deep breath as the stiff collar is finally done chafing against his neck. He wrestles the coat off his shoulders and tosses it on the bed, pulling his duffel bag out from the closet.

 

He’s always taken special care to keep every aspect of his life organized, his apartment back in Insomnia almost ascetic, but he shoves his clothes into the bag in a rushed, haphazard manner, afraid he might lose his resolve if he slows down.

 

Because there’s a voice in his head, impossible to silence.  _ Running away like a coward _ , it taunts.  _ Weak, pathetic, breaking your vows. _

 

Gladio slams his dog-eared bestiary into the bag with so much force that some of the pages threaten to come off, and he spins around when he hears the door open.

 

“There you are, big guy! Man, you shoulda come to the reception,” Prompto says cheerfully as he and Ignis step inside. “The food was A plus! Not as good as Iggy’s, but I gotta admit these Altissians know how to cook.” He pauses mid-step and blinks at the open duffel bag on Gladio’s bed. “Uh. You going somewhere?”

 

Gladio doesn’t answer, but one look in Ignis’ direction tells him he doesn’t have to. Ignis seats himself on the burgundy sofa by the window and gives Gladio an unimpressed look.

 

Prompto peers into Gladio’s bag. “Seriously, why are you packing?”

 

Gladio gives his shoulder a light shove and yanks the zipper on his bag closed.

 

“Well,  _ excuuuse _ me for asking,” Prompto scoffs, raising his palms in the air.

 

Ignis taps his gloved fingers against the armrest and cocks his brow at Gladio. “You really think this is the best course of action?”

 

“You got a better idea?” Gladio rakes his fingers through his hair and turns to look at the view in the window behind Ignis’ back. The cathedral across the city is like a piece of art, as intimidating as it is impressive. “You saw what almost happened at the ceremony today.”

 

Ignis hums quietly, his brows pulling into a troubled frown.

 

“You said it yourself, he ain’t meant for me, and if Noct can’t be strong, I have to be strong for the both of us.”

 

Ignis looks a little startled at having his own words thrown back at him, but he wasn’t wrong when he confronted Gladio at the Crow’s Nest on their way to Lestallum.

 

“Come on, you know what’s at stake here, Ignis. If one of us slips again or loses control now that–”

 

“Wait,” Ignis interrupts, raising his palm. The frown on his face deepens as he studies Gladio with narrowed eyes. “The two of you didn’t…?”

 

Gladio looks away, unable to meet Ignis’ eyes, and his silence is enough to get Ignis on the map about the night in Lestallum.

 

“I see,” Ignis says stiffly. “I do hope you didn’t–”

 

“What, bond?  _ No _ , of course not!” Gladio sucks in a deep breath and he has to force out the words he speaks next. “It was just… It was nothing, okay?”

 

“Um, can I get a timeout?” Prompto asks nervously, his eyes like saucers as he stares at them. “Are you saying Gladio and Noct are a thing now? Because it kinda sounds like that’s exactly what you’re saying, and I’m like, wondering when did  _ that _ happen?”

 

“It didn’t!” Gladio shakes his head, feeling like he’s on trial. “And it won’t, because it can’t,” he adds, sounding a little manic.

 

“And running away is the solution?” Ignis asks, the quiet disapproval in his voice landing like a finely honed knife.

 

“Hey, I ain’t running,” Gladio bites back, his posture growing more defensive. “Besides. What good is a Shield with no one to protect?” He finally grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder, his jaw set. “Noct won’t need me once he and Luna settle down in Tenebrae.”

 

“That’s preposterous,” Ignis scoffs. “And you know he’ll always need his  _ friend _ .”

 

“Yeah!” Prompto agrees, throwing Gladio a pleading look. “Come on, Gladio, you can’t just leave.”

 

The duffel bag on his shoulder seems to suddenly weigh a ton, and Gladio has to tighten his grip around the handles to keep himself from dropping it back on the bed, the desperate look on Prompto’s face almost his undoing.

 

He shakes his head and takes a resolute step toward the door. “Trust me, it’s better this way.”

 

Prompto’s shoulders slump and the heavy silence from Ignis speaks volumes as they watch Gladio cross the room.

 

“Where are you gonna go?” Prompto calls after him.

 

Gladio shrugs, hesitant to admit that he has no real plan. “I dunno, guess I’ll see if Cor has some work for me. There’s always something that needs hunting in the Outlands.”

 

“And what about Noctis?” Ignis asks. “What shall we tell him when he finds his Shield gone come morning?”

 

Gladio can’t meet Ignis’ eyes, but he feels pinned down by his gaze all the same. “I don’t–” He swallows against the strain in his throat and shoves the door open. “Just make sure he knows I’m doing this for him.”

 

He starts walking and every step to the elevator feels like he’s wading through tar, the nagging voice in his head growing louder.

 

And yeah, he’s running, because he  _ is  _ a coward.

 

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Noctis stares at the canopy above his bed and counts the folds in the fabric for the fourth time in an attempt to prolong the brief moment of peace between waking and having to face the world outside his room.

 

Every bone in his body feels at once hollow and heavy like led, and the delicate band of mythril around his finger is as comforting as it is terrifying.

 

How can such small a thing hold such enormous importance?

 

Noctis slips the ring off his finger and studies the engraving on the inside, his own name joined with Luna’s in delicate cursive. A visible symbol of the peace they’ve forged.

 

And he’s finally done it, made it to the end of the road he’s been walking with her for the past twelve years, his duty finally fulfilled.

 

Reaching the goal feels nothing like he imagined when he set out from Insomnia all those weeks ago. It’s even farther from the idealized fantasies he had as a boy when the notion of marrying a princess and sitting on his father’s throne seemed like the most natural thing for a young prince to desire.

 

He feels like a traitor for wanting something he’s not supposed to have. Luna’s dedication and the way she’s embraced her role as Oracle makes Noctis feel ashamed for his own reluctance to do what’s expected of him.

 

He flushes at the memory of standing on the altar with Luna, the way he’d almost messed up the most important moment of his life because some part of him still thought he was free to chase his own selfish desires.

 

It didn’t surprise him to see Gladio skip the reception, but something about his absence gnaws at his nerves. He puts the ring back on his finger and grabs his phone from the nightstand.

 

The message he sent to Gladio before bed remains unread. Noctis hits Gladio’s number on the speed dial, but his call is declined after four rings. He tries again and frowns when the call goes straight to voicemail.

 

“The hell? You ignoring me or something?” Noctis blinks at the alert that pops up on the screen, a reminder to take his suppressants. “Great…”

 

He shoves the duvet aside and makes his way to the bathroom, the marble walls and gilded mirrors almost gaudy after the rustic charm of the motel rooms from their road trip. He digs through his toiletry bag until he finds the familiar tin box, his suppressants rattling inside as he pops the lid open.

 

Ignis had renewed his prescription the moment they’d reached Altissia. The world around him has been dull ever since. Everything smells of the same bland  _ nothing _ and his own scent had disappeared almost overnight, masking his nature from everyone who isn’t privy to his secret.

 

And as far as the world is concerned, Lucis has no omega for a king, but a good, reliable beta.

 

Noctis washes his pill down with lukewarm water and scowls at his reflection in the mirror. The taste of freedom, no matter how brief, had made him greedy for more, and being forced to let go of it feels like he’s lost a limb, the memory of it a constant ghost in the back of his mind. 

 

He wanders back to the bedroom and grabs his phone from the pillow, about to send Gladio another message when someone knocks on his door.

 

“Rise and shine, Noct,” Prompto sing-songs from the other side, and his smile is almost annoyingly perky when Noctis lets him in.

 

“You’re in a good mood,” Noctis huffs.

 

“Well, it’s a beautiful morning, the sun is shining and the bees are uh, buzzing?” Prompto laughs nervously.

 

Noctis looks up from his phone and shoots his friend a puzzled look. “If you say so.” He goes through his wardrobe and pulls on a t-shirt with a giant chocobo on the front, a souvenir from their time in Duscae, one that Ignis is sure to disapprove of, but there’s no way Noctis is wearing something formal after walking around in a damn cape in public.

 

“Hey, you hear anything from Gladio? He still asleep or something?” Noctis asks. “He’s been ghosting me since last night.”

 

Prompto’s face seems to grow a shade paler right in front of Noctis’ eyes. “Gladio? Uh, yeah I-I’ve seen him, but um–” Prompto tugs on the bandana tied around his bicep, the heel of his boot tapping a nervous rhythm against the floor.

 

“You okay?” Noctis asks, staring at Prompto with arched brows. “Is something up?”

 

“What? No. Nothing’s up,” Prompto sputters. “Anyway, why are you even thinking about Gladio when you’ve just had your wedding night?” He grabs a hold of Noctis’ wrist and keeps tugging until Noctis follows him out of the room. “Speaking of wedding nights, how was it?” Prompto asks, wagging his brows like an idiot.

 

Noctis gives him a blank stare as they walk down the hallway of Secretary Claustra’s private residence. “You know there wasn’t one. Luna and I barely know each other.”

 

Prompto pokes his tongue out between his teeth, his smile sheepish. “Oh. Yeah.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t care about her,” Noctis says, feeling a little flustered. “But we married each other to bring an end to the war. She and I… We can’t ever–”

 

“I know,” Prompto nods, a flash of pity passing across his features. “You don’t have to explain it to me, I get it, Noct.”

 

Noctis follows Prompto down the hallway to a small dining room where Luna and Ignis are already in the middle of their breakfast.

 

Noctis scratches at the back of his head, his cheeks heating when he realizes he’s unfashionably late. “Sorry, didn’t mean to keep you waiting, but I kinda–”

 

“Overslept?” Ignis and Luna echo each other from the table, their smiles teasing.

 

“Yeah,” Noctis grins. “Anyway. Good morning.”

 

“Good morning, Noctis, Prompto,” Luna nods.

 

“Your Ladyship,” Prompto says with a bow, drawing a quiet giggle from Luna.

 

“Just Luna is fine,” she says kindly.

 

Prompto blinks at her, his freckled cheeks an impressive shade of pink. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, uh, Luna.”

 

Noctis pokes at Prompto’s arm with his elbow. “Real smooth.”

 

“Hey, at least I wasn’t late,” Prompto mutters.

 

Luna raises a delicate porcelain cup to her lips and takes a sip of tea. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“Like a baby chocobo,” Noctis says as he takes the empty seat at her side. “Yesterday was kinda exhausting.”

 

“It really was,” Luna agrees. “I would have fallen asleep in my wedding dress had Gentiana not been there to help me out of it.” She eyes Noctis’ shirt and gives the chocobo a small tickle with the tip of her finger. “I like your shirt.”

 

“Thanks,” Noctis grins, shooting Ignis a smug look across the table, mouthing a silent  _ I told you so  _ at him.

 

Ignis continues to stir his cup of coffee, seemingly immune to Noctis’ gloating.

 

There’s a small lull in the conversation, and Noctis is relieved when Ignis picks up the slack for him, engaging Luna in a small talk while Noctis digs into his breakfast.

 

He chews on his eggs, the stress of the wedding starting to ebb away, and it almost feels normal again, eating with his friends— Noctis looks up from his plate and catches Prompto shooting a nervous look in Ignis’ direction, and he almost shoves his fork into his tongue when he finally realizes that there’s something very important missing from the serene picture.

 

“Hey, where’s Gladio? Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

 

The silence that descends into the room seems to suck all the air, and Noctis can sense Prompto’s distress even through his suppressants as his friend shoots Ignis another nervous look.

 

“Okay, what’s going on, you guys? Where is he?” Noctis’ tightens his grip on the fork in his hand as his stomach begins to twist with something unpleasant. “Ignis?”

 

Ignis lowers his cup on the saucer and folds his hands on the table, the image of poised calm even under Noctis’ intense stare. “I’m afraid he’s decided to leave.”

 

“Leave?” Noctis shakes his head as he struggles to make sense of the situation. “Like, on an errand?”

 

“No, not on an errand,” Ignis says, his voice clipped. “He’s decided to sail back to Lucis and neither Prompto nor I could change his mind about it.”

 

“We tried,” Prompto says, sounding a little panicked. “But you know how he is, as stubborn as a garula when he gets something in his head.”

 

“Did something happen?” Luna asks, with alarm in her voice. “Was there some manner of emergency?”

 

“Yeah, is Iris okay?” Noctis adds, surging up in his seat.

 

“She’s fine,” Ignis reassures him, but he looks no less troubled as he gives Noctis a pointed look over the rim of his glasses. “Noct, I believe this might be a topic for a more private setting.”

 

The meaning behind Ignis’ words hits Noctis like a physical blow, the reason behind Gladio’s departure no longer a mystery. He drops his fork on his plate, the clatter of silver on porcelain making Luna flinch in her seat.

 

 

_ Wherever the road takes us, I’ll be by your side, Noct _ .

 

 

Noctis’ throat clicks as he tries to swallow against the sudden taste of bile in his mouth.

 

“He promised me… No, he _ swore an oath to me _ .” His words leak out in an angry hiss. “He’s not allowed to leave unless I relieve him from his duty! Doesn’t he know that? How could he just...”

 

“I’m sorry,” Ignis says, grim but sympathetic.

 

“Sorry, dude,” Prompto echos, biting his lip, his eyes downcast.

 

Noctis stares at the polished tabletop, the surge of anger draining as fast as it appeared. He lifts his hand up to his neck and rubs idly at his bonding spot, half hidden under the collar of his shirt.

 

Luna lays a gentle hand on top of his knuckles. “Are you alright, Noctis?” She looks confused, but her face is the picture of empathy, almost as if she shares his pain.

 

Noctis stares at her, his voice dazed, like it doesn’t belong to him. “He said he’d never leave.”

 

Luna studies his face, something like understanding dawning in her eyes. She gives Noctis’ hand a comforting squeeze, the corner of her mouth curling up. “Then I’m sure the two of you will meet again.”

 

 

*****

  
  


 

**18:33**

**To Gladio:**

**Come on, pick up!!**

 

**18:34**

**To Gladio:**

**You think you can just ghost me like this? I’m your king, you jerk**

 

**18:35**

**To Gladio:**

**Fine. See if I care**

 

**18:57**

**To Gladio:**

**Please, Gladio we need to talk about this**

 

**19:03**

**To Gladio:**

**You can’t leave me**

 

**19:04**

**To Gladio:**

**You promised me you never would**

 

Noctis looks up from his phone when he hears the door open, then hides the device underneath his pillow as Ignis crosses the room and takes a seat at the edge of Noctis’ bed. 

 

His eyes drift to Noctis’ luggage which lies open in the middle of the floor, his clothes spilling out in a haphazard pile.

 

“Sorry, I know I’m supposed to be packing for Tenebrae,” Noctis says, and he actually manages to sound a little apologetic. “I’ll do it before dinner.”

 

“The ferry doesn’t depart until mid-morning, and you know I’ll help if you can’t manage to do it on your own. I know you have a lot on your mind.” Ignis pushes his glasses up the length of his nose and reaches out to press his hand on Noctis’ right knee, above an old scar from the Marilith incident. “Noct, are you alright?”

 

Noctis’ mouth draws into a sour pout that’s definitely too childish for the King of Lucis, but he can’t stop it. Just thinking about Gladio makes him want to destroy something.

 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t approve of his departure either, or the manner in which he left you, left all of us,” Ignis says.

 

Noctis glares at the TV screen on the opposite side of the room, the muted newscast playing another highlight reel from the wedding.

 

Ignis gives his knee a gentle squeeze. “You do know why he left, don’t you?”

 

“Because he’s a coward.” Noctis spits the word out like it’s something foul in his mouth.

 

Ignis shakes his head, his voice soft, but a touch scolding. “Noct, you know that’s not true.”

 

“Yeah, well.” It’s all Noctis can get out, because he knows Ignis is right. Knows Gladio would give his own life in a heartbeat if it meant that Noctis was safe, and it makes him want to take his words back.

 

Ignis stands up and begins to sort out the pile of clothes on the floor, folding them neatly into the luggage one by one. “I know the two of you have always had a very passionate relationship.”

 

Noctis blushes at the word ‘passionate’, and there’s a mildly amused glint in Ignis’ eye as he continues to fold his clothes. “I mean to say that you and Gladio have never been afraid to express your feelings to each other, be it anger or joy or frustration – or love,” he says, watching Noctis over the rumpled shirt in his hands.

 

“Whaaat?” Noctis sputters, sitting up on the bed. “He told you?!”

 

“He didn’t have to because I’m not blind,” Ignis informs him, clearly amused by Noctis’ display of embarrassed horror. “Come now, Highness, you’re not a fish, close your mouth.”

 

Noctis’ teeth click as he clamps his mouth shut, blinking at Ignis who continues to fold his clothes like he’s back in Noctis’ old pigsty of an apartment in Insomnia.

 

“I know this situation you both find yourselves in is rather difficult. I know it hurts, but this is–”

 

“My duty? Yeah, I know,” Noctis says, his words dripping with frustration turned bitter by time. “At least I’m still here. Can’t say the same for my Shield.”

 

Ignis closes the luggage and joins Noctis on the bed once more. “Gladio may possess more physical prowess than the rest of us combined, but he has his weak spots like all of us. I’m sure you’re aware of that since most of his insecurities are tied directly to you.”

 

Noctis swallows and drops his gaze to his lap. “Yeah… I know.”

 

Gladio’s desire to protect him, to be strong for him, it’s always been an endless source of excitement for Noctis, humbling and a little intoxicating, and now, in some mad twist of irony, it’s also the reason why Gladio has chosen to leave his side.

 

“He probably thinks he’s protecting me by leaving. Thinks he has to be strong for me, because I might falter.” Noctis lets out a humorless, self-deprecating laugh. “And I almost did, right there, in front of Luna and all of Altissia.”

 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Noct. You performed admirably. The cost is high, but you and Luna have brought peace to millions of people.” He ruffles the top of Noctis’ head, the gesture a little stiff compared to the freedom with which Prompto and Gladio have always touched him.

 

Noctis’ attention is drawn back to the TV as the newscast begins to play footage from Insomnia where the lingering Imperial presence is being escorted out of the city by the Glaive.

 

“You know, I always thought Luna and I would live in Lucis,” Noctis sighs. “But the Citadel barely stands after the attack.”

 

“You still might, one day.” Ignis reaches for the remote and switches the channel to a live broadcast of a chocobo race. “Things can be rebuilt, Noct.”

 

He stands up and smooths out the wrinkles on his trousers. “Dinner’s in an hour, in the western dining hall. I’d advise you to try and be a little more punctual since Secretary Claustra has taken time out of her busy schedule to dine with us before our departure.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis snorts, “I’ll be there.”

 

“And please, wear something that wasn’t purchased at a pit stop in the middle of the Duscaean wilderness, no matter how much Lady Lunafreya might like it.”

 

“Aw, come on, don’t you go cramping my style, Specks.”

 

“I’ll cramp anything that reflects poorly on the Lucian throne, and I do believe novelty shirts with giant birds on them put a slight damper on your street credibility, highness.”

  
  


 

* * *

 

 

  
  


“Come on, you can hit harder than that!” Gladio held up the padded training shield and braced himself for another hit from Noctis’ wooden sword. “Again.”

 

Noctis swung at him, the head of his sword connecting with the edge of Gladio’s shield, the force of it barely making him flinch. “Harder.”

 

“I can’t hit any harder than that!” Noctis whined, his face pink from exertion.

 

“Yes, you can,” Gladio insisted. He tried to stay calm, but the way Noctis fought him at every turn today was starting to gnaw at his patience. “Try again.”

 

“No,” Noctis pouted. He threw his sword at Gladio, who blocked it easily with his shield.

 

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going? We have another thirty minutes left,” Gladio sputtered, hurrying after Noctis, who was marching away from the training room with a resolute spring in his step.

 

“I don’t care,” Noctis grumbled, scowling at Gladio over his shoulder.

 

“Come on, I have to train you, make you strong!”

 

Noctis spun around on his heels and threw his gangly arms in the air. “Why? I’ll have you to fight for me, won’t I? That’s what you’re here for.”

 

Noctis was barely thirteen, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he didn’t yet grasp the full scope of Gladio’s duties, but Gladio had never felt more diminished by a handful of words. He ignored the strain of hurt in his throat and caught Noctis’ by his shoulder just as he was about to slip out of the room.

 

“Come on, Noctis, my dad’ll chew my ear off if he finds out that I’m not carrying out my duties.”

 

“Not my problem,” Noctis announced, the flippant, almost haughty way he said it snapping something in Gladio’s brain.

 

“Spoiled little brat,” he growled under his breath. Whoever said betas were mild-mannered was full of shit. “Can’t believe I’m gonna be stuck with you for the rest of my miserable life…”

 

Noctis yanked himself free from Gladio’s grip and crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “You think I wanna be stuck with you? You’re always yelling at me and–” He sniffed at Gladio and wrinkled his nose, his tongue poking out between his teeth. “And you smell weird.”

 

“ _ What? _ ” Gladio blinked at Noctis, the comment so out of left field that he couldn’t help the stunned laugh that burst from his mouth. “Since when do you care about how I smell?”

 

Noctis brought his hand up and pinched his nose with his fingers, waving the other one in front of his face in an exaggerated manner. “Since you started reeking so bad that I can’t even breathe around you.”

 

Gladio shuffled his feet, doing his best to hide the fact that Noctis’ words, no matter how ridiculous, were making him a little self-conscious. He lifted his arms, pretending to stretch as he tilted his nose toward his armpit, but all he could smell was clean sweat and some of his usual musk.

 

“It’s just sweat,” he scoffed.

 

“Nuh-uh,” Noctis insisted, shaking his head. “You really stink today.”

 

Gladio stepped forward, leaning into Noctis personal space, making a show of scenting him. “Yeah, well, you smell pretty weird, too, you know?” And it was true, there was something off in Noctis’ scent today.

 

Was it something in his clothes or his hair? Gladio frowned, sniffing at the crown of Noctis’ head and down his neck as he tried to locate the source of it. He recoiled when his nose brushed against Noctis’ shoulder and he heard Noctis let out a startled whine.

 

“Noctis? You okay?”

 

Noctis stumbled back, the look in his eyes glazed, like he’d been doused in bee dust. “I’m fine.” He smacked his palms against Gladio’s chest and gave him a shove, the gesture almost lethargic. “Just leave me alone.”

 

Noctis knees buckled and Gladio managed to catch him in his arms just as his legs gave out under him. He let out a miserable whimper, his small body trembling against Gladio’s chest.

 

“Hey, come on, what’s up with you?” Gladio was starting to panic. He was supposed to protect Noctis with his life, and here he was, already failing his duties. “Shit.”

 

“Gladio,” Noctis mumbled, his voice slurred. “I feel weird…” 

 

“It’s ok, I’m gonna take you to your doctor.” Gladio slid his arm under Noctis skinny legs and picked him up, his steps echoing off the marble walls as he rushed down the hall. “You’re gonna be ok, Noct, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 

“No. You’ll leave me.”

 

“What?” Gladio looked down, startling when he saw Noctis’ face begin to morph before his eyes like it was made of liquid.

 

_“You’ll leave me. You’ll leave me. You’ll leave me. You’ll leave me._ _You’ll leave me!_ ”

 

 

Gladio startles awake, his heart hammering in his chest as little Noctis’ voice continues to ring in his ears. He pries his tongue off the roof of his mouth and rubs at his temples, the muscles in his back protesting as he sits up.

 

He still remembers the day he just revisited in his dream, how he’d delivered Noctis to the royal physicians’ care only to be escorted out of the infirmary the moment Noctis was out of his arms.

 

Of course he was, because that must have been the day Noctis had first started to show signs of his true nature, and the doctors had rushed in to cover it all up.

 

There are patches of sunlight on the floor and Gladio knows he’s probably slept away most of the morning. The guilt evoked by his dream lingers like a foul smell.

 

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand, his finger hovering over the power button. He turned it off two days ago and because he’s still a coward, he lets the screen remain black and shoves the device under his pillow.

 

There’s an ache in his shoulder that seems to radiate up his neck. He wonders if he’s slept in a bad position as he reaches up to rub at the sore spot. The skin under his fingers is mildly swollen and his hand freezes mid-motion when he realizes it’s no mere muscle cramp.

 

“Shit.” Gladio rubs at his eyes, his scar pulling with the motion.

 

It’s been ages since he’s had a proper rut.

 

He could usually deal with them with strenuous exercise and a couple of sick days, but if his coming rut has anything to do with the time he spent around Noctis, it’ll probably take more than a few extra hours of training to work it out of his system.

 

He figures it’s still a few weeks away and he ignores the ache in his shoulder, rolling out of bed.

 

He rummages through his duffel bag for a pair of jeans and an old t–shirt and hangs his Crownsguard uniform in the space Iris has made for him in the small wardrobe. Why should he wear the uniform if he’s got no one to protect?

 

He heads downstairs and finds Iris seated at the kitchen table, sorting freshly picked tomatos and carrots into small wooden crates. She slaps a label on the side of the box in front of her and scribbles down the name of the restaurant it’s been sold to.

 

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” Iris laughs when she looks up and spots Gladio coming down the stairs. “I’m afraid you missed breakfast, but we’ll start on lunch as soon as Talcott and Monica come back from their delivery run.” She grabs one of the tomatoes and tosses it in the air before biting into the plump skin. “Noctis must have used some kind of princely touch on that patch of dirt, because the field behind the house is pushing out vegetables faster than we can pick them.”

 

“Yeah, I guess he must have…” Gladio hums, pulling up a chair and joining Iris at the table.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you, but you looked so tired again that I thought you could use the extra sleep,” Iris says, a hint of worry creeping into her voice as she studies Gladio’s face. “To be honest, Gladdy, you still look a little worn.”

 

Gladio ducks his head and runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

 

“Oh, I bet,” Iris nods, going back to sorting the vegetables. “The wedding must have been stressful, not just for Noct and Lady Lunafreya, but for you, Iggy and Prompto too. You all worked so hard to get Noctis to Altissia.”

 

Gladio feels his stomach twist at the mention of the wedding, but Iris doesn’t pause long enough for him to change the subject.

 

“It paid off, though,” she continues, casting the tomato in her hand a dreamy gaze. “The wedding was so beautiful, and Lady Luna looked stunning in that dress of hers. Oh, and Noct cleans up pretty good, too,” she giggles.

 

“Yeah,” Gladio nods, smiling stiffly.

 

“So? Are you finally gonna tell me why you’re here?” Iris asks, switching topics so fast that Gladio feels caught off-guard by her question. “Are Noctis and Luna coming back, too?”

 

“No, they’re not,” Gladio says gruffly. “They’re probably on their way to Tenebrae by now.”

 

“And you’re gonna join them later?” Iris narrows her eyes, a sign that she’s starting to become suspicious. “Gladio… Why aren’t you with Noct? Did something happen?”

 

Gladio stands up and goes to get a drink of water, hoping to buy himself some time as he racks his brain for an answer that doesn’t make him look like a complete jerk.

 

“Gladdy?”

 

“I’m not going back,” Gladio announces. “Noctis doesn’t need me and–”

 

“What? That’s ridiculous!” Iris exclaims, staring at Gladio like he’s grown a second set of limbs. The chair scrapes against the floor as she stands up and marches into the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “You’re the King’s Shield, of course he needs you.”

 

“No, he don’t,” Gladio insists, and he feels as small as he used to whenever he’d get lectured by one of their parents, Astrals bless their souls.

 

Iris folds her arms over her chest and lifts her chin, unimpressed by Gladio’s lame argument.

 

“It’s complicated, Iris. There are things you don’t understand,” Gladio continues, pacing around the small kitchen. “It’s better if I stay away.”

 

“Better for who?” Iris challenges. “You and Noctis?”

 

“And Lucis. And Tenebrae,” Gladio shoots back.

 

Iris blows out a frustrated breath, struggling to make sense of his reasoning as she lacks the details of everything that’s transpired between Gladio and Noctis since they left Insomnia.

 

Their argument comes to a sudden halt when Talcott and Monica step through the front door.

 

“Gladio! You’re awake!” Talcott cries out cheerfully, running across the room to greet him.

 

“I sure am, buddy,” Gladio smiles at him, grateful for the distraction. He holds his fist out and waits for Talcott to bump his bony knuckles against it before reaching out to give him a tickle.

 

“Is everything alright?” Monica asks, clearly sensing the lingering tension in the room.

 

“Nah, it’s nothing,” Gladio says airily even as Iris continues to glare at him.

 

“I saw you on TV,” Talcott announces. “You were in the church and you looked like you’d eaten something rotten,” he laughs.

 

“Did I?” Gladio sputters, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

 

“So did Prince Noctis,” Talcott muses.

 

Iris continues to watch Gladio, the line of her shoulders growing a little less tense as she begins to put two and two together, the reason behind Gladio’s departure from Altissia dawning on her a moment later.

 

“Oh Gladio…” Iris strokes her fingers down Gladio’s forearm, giving his fingers a sympathetic squeeze, and the pity Gladio sees in her eyes makes him feel like an exposed nerve. 

 

“Come on, you can help Talcott set the table while I cook. Iggy taught me some new tricks,” Iris smiles, but it never reaches her eyes.

  
  


 

* * *

 

 

  
  


Tenebrae is as beautiful as Noctis remembers, though his memories of the time he spent as the Fleurets’ guest have faded in the twelve years he’s been away. It’s different from Insomnia, the lush green woods and tall mountains that surround the manor a novel sight to someone who’s lived his life in a metropolis that never sleeps.

 

When Noctis was a boy, he did most of his recovering in the guest wing, but now that he’s married to the lady of the manor, he’s been given his own rooms across the hall from Luna’s. 

 

He slouches lower on the velvet sofa in his private sitting room, his fingers tapping at his phone as he plays through another round of King’s Knight.

 

It’s been a while since he’s had such nice digs, his apartment back in Insomnia paling next to all the Tenebrean grandeur. But while the space might be his, nothing in it feels familiar, and Noctis feels like he’s stranded in someone else’s dream.

 

He shoves his phone into his pocket and wanders across the room, tracing his fingers along the furniture.

 

There’s another collection of rooms accessible through a door at the back of the sitting room, no doubt meant for his Shield, but they remain empty in Gladio’s absence.

 

Noctis pushes the door ajar and peeks in through the small crack. All the furniture is covered in white sheets, the shapes of them like ghosts in the still quiet.

 

He closes the door with more force than he intended and leans his back against it, sinking down until he’s seated on the floor, his hands hanging between his bent knees.

 

How could Gladio ever think he has no place in Noctis’ life when it feels like it’s been knocked off its axis now that he’s gone.

 

Noctis rubs at his shoulder until he feels an echo of how it felt to have Gladio’s lips pressed against his bonding spot, but he wrenches his hand away when it makes the longing in his heart even more pronounced.

 

He pulls out his phone and opens his inbox, every single message he’s sent to Gladio over the past couple of weeks still unread.

 

The anger he felt for the first few days has dulled into a mix of longing and the occasional bout of guilt as Noctis wonders if he’d always taken it for granted that Gladio would come running, should Noctis only call for him.

 

  
  
*****

 

 

“Is this the last one?” Gladio asked as he lowered a box full of Noctis’ comic books on the coffee table.

 

“Yes, I believe that should be it.” Ignis put the last of the groceries he’d bought into the fridge and wiped his palms together as he surveyed the apartment. “Our prince is all moved in.”

 

“Aw, they grow up so fast,” Gladio snorted, ruffling Noctis’ hair.

 

Noctis swatted his hand away and slumped down on the couch, the old injury in his back aching from all the boxes he’d hauled up from the moving van. “Thanks for the help, you guys.”

 

The cushion underneath him dipped as Prompto sat down next to him. He threw his arm around Noctis’ shoulder and blew out a quiet whistle. “Man, I’m so jealous. I probably won’t have a place of my own until I’m, like, thirty.”

 

“You sure you’re up to this?” Gladio asked, the doubt Noctis saw in the tilt of his brows getting under his skin like a barb.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Noctis challenged, tilting his chin.

 

Gladio crossed his arms and watched Noctis down the length of his nose. “I don’t know, maybe because you’re fifteen and you’ve never had to do anything for yourself.”

 

Noctis shot up from the couch to glare Gladio straight in the eye. “For your information, I have a job interview tomorrow,” he announced, a satisfied smirk spreading to his lips at the brief flash of surprise he caught on Gladio’s face.

 

“Indeed. Which is why we should all let Noctis get a good night’s sleep,” Ignis said, urging Prompto up from the couch. “Come, I’ll drive you home before your parents have a chance to get worried.”

 

“Fat chance,” Prompto muttered as he got on his feet.

 

They said goodnight and Noctis watched his friends through a crack in the door, their voices in the hallway growing fainter and disappearing when they got to the elevators.

 

He wandered back into the living room and stood in the middle of a sea of cardboard boxes, feeling a little lost.

 

He’d never had this level of freedom at the palace and the knowledge that there was no one standing guard outside his door was both exciting and a little intimidating.

 

Noctis pushed the balcony door aside and poked his head out, his skin prickling with the chill the air carried this high. His rooms at the Citadel had been even higher, but there was something in the sights and sounds around him that made Noctis feel a little unmoored.

 

The wind played with his hair as he leaned against the railing, the city below bustling with life in spite of the late hour. Insomnia was his home, but here, in this strange apartment in the middle of the concrete jungle, Noctis felt like a speck of dust, small and insignificant.

 

The thought made him uncomfortable. The longer he stared at the mix of neon ads and never-ending stream of traffic, the more anxious he got.

 

He rushed back in and leaned against the glass door as he stared at the quiet apartment.

 

Nothing in his new home felt like  _ home _ , the furniture brand new, most of the things Ignis had packed for him impersonal objects like school books and kitchen utensils.

 

Noctis listened to the electric hum from the refrigerator, his breaths growing more rabid as something in his chest began to strain. He shoved his hand into his pocket and fumbled for his phone.

  
  


**21:23**

**To Gladio:**

**You home yet?**

 

**21:23**

**From Gladio:**

**Nah, just grabbing some takeout.**

 

**21:24**

**To Gladio:**

**Can you come over?**

 

**21:24**

**From Gladio:**

**Everything ok?**

 

Noctis bit his lip, his thumb hovering over the screen. He felt like a total wimp. He’d been on his own for less than fifteen minutes and here he was, scrambling for something safe and familiar.

 

Noctis looked down when his phone began to buzz in his hand and he realized he’d left Gladio hanging.

 

“Noctis, are you alright?” Gladio asked as soon as the call connected.

 

“Yeah, I’m ok,” Noctis mumbled, biting his lip as his eyes darted around the room in search of something he could use as an excuse to get Gladio to come back without looking like a wuss. His face lit up when his gaze landed on the fridge, and he rushed into the kitchen to yank the electric cord out of the socket. “It’s just that there’s something wrong with my fridge and I’m afraid all the food Ignis got for me is gonna spoil.”

 

Gladio exhaled into the receiver. “Okay, I’ll be there in ten, just... sit tight and don’t go poking at anything on your own.”

 

As promised, Gladio was behind his door ten minutes later and Noctis felt a little ridiculous for the relief that washed over him at the sight, but there was something in Gladio’s presence that made him feel safe.

 

Gladio set his bag of takeout on the kitchen counter and shrugged his leather jacket off. “So, trouble with the fridge, huh?”

 

“Yeah… Don’t know what happened to it.” Noctis fiddled with the strings on his hoodie as he watched Gladio peek into the fridge.

 

“Well, there’s definitely no power,” Gladio agreed. He closed the door and poked his head to the side, his gaze honing in on the electric cord. “And I think I know why.” Gladio held up the cord and watched Noctis over his shoulder as he shoved it back into the socket. “That’s funny. I’m pretty sure I plugged it in myself when we got here,” he said, arching one of his thick brows, an amused glint in his eye.

 

Noctis’ eyes darted to the side. “Yeah, it’s pretty weird, huh?” He could feel Gladio watching him, heard him shift closer.

 

“Hey, Noct?”

 

“Mm?”

 

Gladio pressed his knuckle under Noctis’ chin, tilting his face up until Noctis finally met his eyes. “You want me to stay over tonight?”

 

Noctis blinked at him, his cheeks glowing as he realized Gladio was aware of his little impromptu sabotage on the fridge. “Y-yeah. That’d be cool.”

 

Gladio settled his large palm at the nape of Noctis’ neck and brushed his thumb along the bumps of his vertebra, his amber eyes gentle. “Okay then.” He led Noctis to the kitchen counter and pulled out two steaming cups of ramen from the bag of takeout.

 

“Wanna help me with these?” He pushed the spare cup towards Noctis and gave one of his arms a teasing squeeze. “These beanpoles of yours could use some brawn,” he laughed.

 

“Hey, I got plenty of brawn,” Noctis grinned, reaching up to poke at Gladio’s massive bicep through the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Right here.”

 

“Smartass,” Gladio snorted. “Come on, eat your noodles so I can get your ass to bed. Iggy will rip me a new one if I let you oversleep tomorrow.”

  
  


 

*****

 

 

Noctis finds himself smiling at the memory and he gives his bicep a little squeeze, but he knows he can’t just sit in his room and reminisce. He pushes himself to his feet, desperate for a change of scenery.

 

There are guards posted at his door, their white uniforms in stark contrast with Noctis’ dark colors.

 

“Hey.” Noctis nods at the guard on his right, but the man doesn’t even flinch. “Well. Carry on, then.”

 

He thinks about calling Prompto and taking the cable car to the nearby hamlet, but he pauses at Luna’s door when he realizes he hasn’t seen her since last night’s dinner. He gives the door a polite knock and grins when he hears two familiar barks.

 

“Come in,” Luna calls from somewhere in her room, and Noctis is greeted by Umbra when he enters. Pryna barks at him from across the room, lying before Luna’s desk, where her mistress sits composing a letter.

 

“Noctis,” Luna smiles. “How are you today?”

 

“I’m good.” Noctis crosses the room to stand before her desk, eyeing all the official-looking correspondence laying on it. “Hope I’m not bothering you?”

 

“Actually, my sister and I  _ were _ in the middle of a private conversation.”

 

Noctis spins around and fails to conceal his surprise at the realization that there's someone else in the room.

 

Ravus is seated on a plush couch by the window, his arms thrown over the backrest in a casual manner. Noctis hasn't seen him out of his battle gear since they were children, but he's no less intimidating in a polo shirt and slacks.

 

“I suppose we can continue at a later time, if we must,” Ravus says with an exaggerated sigh, regarding Noctis with his strange eyes.

 

Noctis' jaw ticks as he glares back. He hasn't forgotten Ravus' part in the attack on Insomnia, and the tense silence that descends into the room shows that all three of them are aware of it.

 

Ravus stands up, but doesn't appear to be in any hurry to leave as he comes to stand in front of Noctis, his towering height forcing Noctis to crane his neck in order to meet his eyes. Ravus smiles and flashes his canines, the expression so insincere that even Luna grows tense behind her desk.

 

“I hope  _ Your Highness _ is settling in.” The emphasis Ravus puts on Noctis' title makes the sarcastic undertone obvious. ”I imagine it's a struggle to be so far from home. Even your entourage seems somehow diminished, does it not?”

 

Noctis narrows his eyes at Ravus' observation. “The hell are you talking about?”

 

Ravus revels in the anger he's managed to provoke in Noctis, his alpha stench growing stronger as he bows his back and leans into Noctis' personal space. “It appears loyalty is in short supply these days, even in your very own Crownsguard,” he drawls.

 

Noctis recoils at the barely-concealed barb about Gladio's departure. Open conflict in front of Luna is the last thing he wants, but he grits his teeth, the fact that he's face to face with an alpha doing nothing to deter him. “And what does a lap dog of the Empire like you know about loyalty?” he bites back.

 

Ravus' eyes blaze with open fury. He lurches forward, his canines bared in an ugly snarl. “What was that, you Lucian scu-”

 

“Ravus _! _ ” Luna's shout strikes the room like lightning from the sky. Both Ravus and Noctis spin around to look at her as she stands up from her seat, her pale eyes commanding their attention. “That's _ enough _ , brother.”

 

Ravus bows his head and backs away from Noctis, the air of hostility around him ebbing away under Luna's scolding gaze. ”My apologies, dear sister. I have crossed the line.”

 

“Indeed, you have,” Luna says, her mouth a stern line. ”You will not insult Noctis in such a manner again.”

 

Ravus' eyes shift to Noctis and he offers him a small nod, not an apology, but an echo of a truce nonetheless. “Of course not.”

 

Noctis acknowledges his words with a tilt of his head and does his best to gather his own composure.

 

“And now, if you’re done, I wish to speak with Noctis in private,” Luna announces, her voice level.

 

Ravus nods and circles around the table to give his sister a parting kiss on her cheek. “I'll take my leave, then.”

 

Once they're alone, Luna leans her palms against the desk and breathes out a trembling exhale. “I apologize for my brother. His bark is worse than his bite these days, but there is still so much old resentment in his heart…”

 

Noctis blinks at her, his limbs tense with the adrenaline that lingers in his blood. “He still blames Lucis for what happened to Queen Sylva?”

 

Luna offers him a dejected nod, her eyes apologetic.

 

“I bet he's real happy about our marriage,” Noctis scoffs.

 

“He is not,” Luna admits, and Noctis appreciates her honesty. “But he does value the peace that comes with it, as it's brought Tenebrae full autonomy for the first time in over a decade.”

 

”Too bad all the lands outside of Insomnia belong to the Empire now,” Noctis says, unable to reign in the resentment that’s festered in his heart since everything in his life began to go downhill.

 

“Darling Noctis, I’m so sorry,” Luna sighs, and the pained look on her face is enough to douse Noctis' anger.

 

He blows out a quiet breath through his nose. “Hey, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

 

”Nor is it yours,” Luna says softly. ”We've done our best with the cards that were dealt to us. At least for now.”

 

She goes to open the patio door, and Noctis finds it's suddenly easier to breathe as the alpha scent that lingered in the room in Ravus' wake fades away.

 

Luna invites him to sit with her in a pair of velvet chairs by a  piano that she used to play for him when they were children, and they regard each other in a silence that feels a little too heavy to be comfortable. Noctis wishes he possessed even a fraction of Ignis’ conversational skills, because it was much easier to talk through Luna’s notebook.

 

Luna smooths her palms over the chiffon of her dress. “Shall I call for tea?”

 

Noctis purses his lips and twists them into an awkward smile. “Uh. I’m not really a tea-drinkin’ kinda guy.”

  
  


Luna gives him an amused little chuckle. “That’s alright.” She crosses her feet at the ankles, her air of poised elegance sending Noctis to sit up a little straighter. ”I hope you’re finding your new rooms to your liking.”

 

“They’re great,” Noctis nods, and his tongue feels like led in his mouth. “Really fancy.”

 

“But they’re not home?” Luna asks, her smile sympathetic.

 

Noctis bites his lip and nods, deciding to be honest. “Yeah...” He looks down when he feels Umbra rest his snout against his thigh and he sinks his hands into his thick fur to give him a scratch.

 

Luna’s eyes turn a little wary, and Noctis can guess what’s coming even before the question has left her lips. “Have you heard from your Shield yet?”

 

Noctis shakes his head, fixing his gaze on the steady wag of Umbra’s tail. He hears the fabric of Luna’s skirt rustle as she gets up, and she settles her fingers on his shoulder, her touch radiating a strange sense of comfort.

 

“The two of you were very close?”

 

Noctis can’t find his voice, but Luna seems to read his answer in the hurt in his eyes. She brushes her knuckles gently over Noctis’ cheek, and her heels clack against the polished floor as she walks to the window overlooking the vast fields of sylleblossoms.

 

“It’s terribly unfair that the duty of our blood binds us to walk such a narrow path while others around us are free to follow their hearts, free to love whoever they choose.”

 

Noctis stares at Luna, his lips parted in quiet shock

 

Does she know?

 

He gets up and joins her by the window. “Luna… What are you saying?”

 

“I understand how you feel, Noctis, better than you might realize.” She cups his face and Noctis sees her gaze flick to the side as the curtains behind him rustle softly. “I would have us both be happy.”

 

“As would we all,” speaks a familiar voice behind them.

 

Noctis spins around, unable to hide his surprise when he finds Gentiana seated in the chair he’d occupied moments earlier.

 

She greets him with a nod, but her eyes remain closed. “Congratulations on your wedding, young king.”

 

“Thanks,” Noctis says, a little awkward. He never knows how to compose himself around the mysterious messenger.

 

Gentiana raises from her chair and comes to take Luna’s hand in her own. “Are you ready to depart, my lady?”

 

“Almost,” Luna nods. “I have one more letter left to write.”

 

Noctis blinks at them, feeling like he’s watching a movie backwards. “Um. Am I missing something here?”

 

Luna tilts her head and gives him a quizzical look. “I’m sorry, didn’t I tell you last night over dinner? I’m going to be visiting some of the smaller hamlets on the outskirts of Tenebrae to offer my services to the sick and ailing.”

 

“Such are the duties of the Oracle,” Gentiana says, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Luna’s ear with gentle fingers.

 

Noctis doesn’t doubt that Luna has told him all about her trip, it’s his own absent minded brain that’s failed to take in the information. He offers her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I must have forgotten.”

 

“If the mind of a king wanders, should the king not wander with it?” Gentiana asks.

 

The riddle of her words is easy to discern, but the suggestion takes Noctis by surprise. “You mean I should go back to Lucis?” He turns to look at Luna, stating the obvious like an idiot, “But… We’re married, aren’t we?”

 

“Indeed we are,” Luna nods, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “Our bond and the peace that comes with it will remain even if there’s a sea between us.” She leans in to kiss his cheek and Noctis thinks he smells a faint scent of sylleblossoms even with his weakened senses. “The doors of Fenestala Manor will always be open to you, but Lucis is your home and I know Insomnia has need of its king, now more than ever.”

 

Gentiana opens her eyes and turns to look at Noctis, her gaze piercing, like she’s staring into his very soul. “A king can follow his heart, as long as he remains ever mindful of his duty.” Her dark lashes fan against her cheeks as she closes her eyes and turns her face in Luna’s direction. “Love can be discreet.”

 

Noctis’ head spins at the implication of her words and he struggles to respond. “Okay,” he says, a little lamely, rubbing at his face.

 

When he lowers his hands, Gentiana is gone from the room, and Noctis blinks at the spot she occupied only a moment ago.

 

“Her disappearing act puts most magicians to shame,” Noctis says, a little breathless.

 

“You get used to it,” Luna chuckles, returning to her desk and taking her pen in her hand once more.

 

Noctis taps his finger against his thigh, watching her through his fringe as he approaches her, his steps a little hesitant. He reaches up to touch his shoulder and presses his thumb against his bonding spot. “Luna, do you really mean that I… That  _ we _ should follow our hearts?”

 

Luna looks up from her letter, and there’s a defiant little pinch between her blonde brows. “We must take great care to cherish and foster the peace we’ve helped create, but I would not see either of us condemned to a life without love.” The ring on her finger glints in the sunlight as she touches her hand to her shoulder, mirroring Noctis. “You already conceal such a big part of who you are, Noctis. I don’t wish to see you conceal your heart.”

Noctis nods, but he’s unable to match Luna’s eloquent words, and he reaches over the table in stead, taking her hand in his own.

 

“Thank you, Luna.” Noctis bows his head and lays a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Be safe on your travels.”

 

Luna offers him one more parting smile. “You, too, Noctis.”

  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  


“Gladio! On your right!”

 

Gladio spins around at Cor’s warning and raises his arms just in time to block the incoming attack from the rabid saberclaw. He swings his blade and cleaves the beast in half, but two more are bouncing on his back before he can evade the attack.

 

They manage to send him sprawling on the dirt and he groans in pain as their sharp claws dig into the flesh between his shoulder blades. He rolls over and tries to hit them with his sword, but the angle makes it too heavy and cumbersome to handle.

 

“Gladio, get up!” Cor yells from somewhere to his left, but it’s all Gladio can do to keep the hellhounds from tearing into his neck.

 

One of the saberclaws lets out a high-pitched howl and a moment later, there are two more beasts swarming around Gladio as he struggles to get up. All he can hear is slobbering and growling until one of the animals yelps in pain, the sharp end of a katana sticking out of its chest.

 

Cor slays the beasts one by one, their lifeless corpses piling on top of Gladio, the musty stench of their fur making him gag. He shoves the dead animals aside and shakes his head to get his bearings.

 

“You alright, son?” Cor asks, offering Gladio his hand.

 

Gladio ignores it and uses what little strength is left in his limbs to push himself up to his feet. “Yeah, there were just more of them than I thought, that’s all.”

 

Cor watches him from the corner of his eye as he pushes his katana back into its sheath, and it’s obvious he’s not buying Gladio’s weak explanation for allowing himself to get overwhelmed by a mere pack of saberclaws.

 

Gladio spits into the pile of dead beasts, his mouth tasting like iron. “We gonna take out another nest? The guy at the diner said there were four up in those hills.” He points at the dusty rise of earth and razor-sharp rocks a small distance away.

 

Cor catches his eye and shakes his head. “No, were not.”

 

“Come on, it’s not even far, we got this,” Gladio insists, sounding more whiny than convincing.

 

“No,” Cor repeats. He turns his back to Gladio and begins to head towards the nearby haven, the runes glowing blue in the dusky hues of early evening.

 

Gladio spits out a litany of quiet curses, but he follows on Cor’s heels, reluctant to argue with an alpha more than two decades his senior.

 

They make camp for the night and Gladio does a quick job of getting the fire going as Cor fetches their bedrolls and the cooler from the trunk of his car.

 

“Here. You look like you need one.” Cor tosses Gladio a bottle of curative and he catches it with only half of his usual grace.

 

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” Gladio insists even as the scratches on his back sting with every shift of his muscles.

 

“Use it,” Cor orders.

 

Gladio groans but he stops arguing, cracking the bottle open, his eyes falling shut as he inhales the green mist into his lungs. 

 

They eat in silence like they did last night and the night before that, but Gladio anticipates that Cor will have something to say about his reckless display with the saberclaws.

 

Cor cracks open a bottle of beer on the edge of the cooler and hands it to Gladio before reaching in to take one for himself. 

 

“You been to Insomnia yet?” Cor asks after they’ve emptied half of their bottles.

 

“Not yet.” Gladio’s been in Lucis for almost a month, but his answer doesn’t seem to surprise Cor, who watches him over the fire with a hint of gentle mockery in his steely eyes.

 

“It wouldn’t feel quite right without your king at you side?” Cor asks, and his teeth clack against the rim of his bottle as he takes another sip.

 

Gladio’s eyes grow a fraction wider at his words, because how could Cor land so close to the truth? “Something like that, yeah,” he mutters.

 

The sun’s gone down, the horizon beyond the old military base behind the haven red like an open wound. Something howls in the distance and the call gets answered from the nearby hills Cor refused to inspect.

 

Cor sticks his empty beer bottle back into the cooler and throws another log into their fire, his eyes finding Gladio’s over the flickering flames. “It’s not my place to lecture you, Gladio, but you’ve been growing more and more reckless these past three days we’ve been out here, making mistakes and biting off more than you can chew,” he says, and there’s a softness in his voice that Gladio didn’t think was possible for their grim-faced Marshal. “I know you know better, so you wanna tell me what’s going on with you?”

 

Gladio shakes his head, ready to deny and deflect, but his shoulders slump as he blows out a weary exhale. “I just wanna be useful,” he says, hating how needy he sounds even to his own ears.

 

Cor blows out a quiet chuckle. “Well, in that case you’re about three thousand miles off-course, son.”

 

Gladio frowns at him, his brows knotting in confusion. “Huh?”

 

The look Cor gives him makes Gladio feel like he’s five years old. “Our king is in Tenebrae, isn’t he? And short of one loyal Shield.”

 

Cor’s scolding is softer than Iris’s, but somehow, it stings much worse, coming from someone Gladio has idolized since he was a boy. 

 

Gladio draws his leg up and rests his arms against his knee, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. He really thought he was doing what was best for Noct, and for Lucis. But how could he ever live with himself if Noctis was hurt and Gladio wasn’t at his side to help him?

 

Because fuck  _ Tenebrae’s best _ who shared no bond with Noctis, hadn’t known him since he was a scrawny little pain in the ass, and never saw him grow into the most precious thing in Gladio’s life.

 

“ _ Fuck. _ ” The admission of his mistake, even if he doesn’t voice it, sends Gladio’s mind into a quiet panic in front of the one person who he doesn’t want to witness his weakness.

 

He hears Cor get up on his feet, the soles of his boots scraping against the well-worn rock of the campsite. He listens as Cor circles the fire, the hand he lays on Gladio’s shoulder comforting in a way that makes him think of his father.

 

“Some mistakes can be atoned for,” Cor says quietly, his hand disappearing as he walks to his bedroll. “Come on, let’s try to catch some shut-eye and finish the hunt at first light.”

 

Gladio finally lifts his face and rubs at his eyes. He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his phone, staring at the screen for a moment as he musters the courage to turn it on.

 

His breath lodges in his throat as he finally reads through all of Noctis’ desperate attempts to reach him, the guilt that follows making him nauseous.

 

He stares at the blank text box, his thumb hovering over the keyboard as he wonders what he could possibly say to get even close to atoning.

 

In the end, he types up one single sentence.

 

**20:31**

**To Noctis:**

**I’m so sorry.**

  
  


*****

  
  


Gladio tapped his fingers against his bicep in an impatient rhythm as Noctis and Prompto wandered from shelf to shelf around the small comic book shop. He was supposed to train Noctis after school, but once their prince was allowed anywhere near a comic book, it was pretty impossible to drag him away, and Gladio supposed he only had himself to blame.

 

“Over here, Noct,” Prompto called, waving his arms excitedly. “They’ve got _ Lightning Returns volume 2 _ ! It’s, like, super rare.”

 

Noctis’ head poked out behind a tall shelf like a jack-in-the-box and Gladio had never seen him move as fast as he did when he rushed to Prompto, snatching the comic from his hands.

 

Gladio rolled his eyes as he watched them gush over the thing, though he had to admit that it was nice to see Noctis get passionate about something for a change.

 

He pulled his phone out and tried to get through a round of King’s Knight, but something gnawed at his concentration and he dropped out of the game after a couple of minutes, a restless itch under his skin setting his nerves on edge.

 

Gladio slipped his phone back to his pocket and strode across the shop to Noctis and Prompto, still engrossed in their comic. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road,” Gladio pressed, tapping his nail against his watch. “I still gotta teach Noct how to block before dinner.”

 

Noctis lifted his eyes from the comic, his mouth pursed. “We leave when I’m ready.”

 

Gladio gritted his teeth. Noctis could be such an insolent brat sometimes. “Fine. But don’t think I’m gonna let you weasel your way out of training again.”

 

He looked up when he heard someone giggle and he followed the sound to the counter where the clerk was watching him with amused eyes. Gladio flashed her a grin and walked across the shop to lean his elbow against the counter.

 

“Kid really likes his comics,” he snorted.

 

“I know the feeling. My little brother is crazy about them. Won’t shut up about that Lightning chick,” the girl giggled, pointing at a giant cardboard standee of a pink-haired warrior behind her back.

 

Her eyes shifted to Noctis, and Gladio could tell she’d recognized their prince.

 

“It must be so cool to work for him,” she said, leaning her cheek against her hand, her lips curving in a wistful little smile.

 

Gladio had to bite his tongue to keep the sarcastic laugh in his belly. “Yeah, it sure is peachy…”

 

He saw Noctis glower at him from across the shop, the comic in his hand suddenly forgotten. Gladio ignored him and turned his eyes back to the cute omega behind the counter.

 

“Anyway, there’s this nice pizza joint just outside of Founders Square. Whaddaya say I take you out for a slice after you get off?” he asked, flashing the girl a toothy smile.

 

She watched him down her nose and cocked her brow at him, the simple gesture threatening to bring down the air of confidence Gladio was doing his best to channel. She leaned a little closer, the tip of her pointed nose twitching as she made a show of scenting him.

 

“Look, you seem like a nice guy, but I’m not in the habit of going out with alphas when they’re like five seconds away from rut.”

 

Her words surprised Gladio almost as much as the thick pile of comic books that was dropped on the counter between them with a loud smack.

 

Gladio blinked down at Noctis, who used his pointy elbow to push him away from the counter. “I’m done,” he announced, his mouth pulling into a sour line as he handed the girl his credit card. “I wanna go. Now.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Gladio said, a little bewildered at the strange display, and if he didn’t know better, he’d almost say Noctis was jealous.

 

He followed his prince out of the shop, his senses becoming more alert the moment they were back on the crowded streets.

 

The throbbing in his shoulder seemed to confirm what the omega in the shop had been able to sense even before Gladio, and he pulled Noctis aside when he realized he’d have to make some changes to their usual schedule.

 

“Guess what? It’s your lucky day, because I’m gonna let you skip training tonight,” Gladio said, the wide-eyed look he got from Noctis in return making him chuckle. “I have some personal stuff I need to take care of. And I might be gone for a few days next week.”

 

“Why?” There was a whiny, almost angry edge in Noctis voice as he stared at Gladio through his fringe. “Are you going out with that girl from the shop?”

 

Gladio’s brows pinched together at the question. “What? No. Where’d you get that idea?” He reached up to scratch at his shoulder, the skin around his bonding spot warm under his fingers. “Look, it’s just for a few days. You still got Iggy and Prompto to keep you company.”

 

“You sure do, buddy,” Prompto grinned. He held his hand up for a high five, his face falling when Noctis left him hanging. “Aww, come on.”

 

Noctis continued to glare at Gladio, the look on his face almost comically offended.

 

“Come on, aren’t you happy you won’t have to listen to me yell about your shit blocking techniques for a couple of days?” Gladio smirked at him, the pout on Noctis’ lips faltering as Gladio bumped his fist against Noctis’ chest.

 

Noctis gave a shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but Gladio saw the corner of his mouth twitch up. “Ain’t nothing wrong with my blocking,” he said, tilting his chin. “You just don’t know where to hit.”

 

“That so?” Gladio snorted, pulling Noctis against his flank.

 

Prompto elbowed his way between them and attempted to throw his arms over their shoulders, but he only managed to pull it off with Noctis, his right hand falling to Gladio’s waist instead.

 

“So you really don’t have a hot date with Comic Book Girl?” Prompto asked, wagging his brows at Gladio.

 

Gladio pushed Prompto’s hand off his waist. “I really don’t,” he huffed.

 

“Good. That means I still got a chance,” Prompto grinned with a bounce in his step.

 

“A chance to do what?” Gladio asked, though he had a pretty good hunch.

 

“To get her to go out with me. That is, if I ever find the courage to ask her…” Prompto sighed.

 

Gladio felt a little bad for laughing, but he really couldn’t help himself as he thought back to his own attempt, which would have failed even if Noctis hadn’t torpedoed it for him.

 

“Yeah, good luck with that, kid...” He glanced at Noctis, who’d stayed quiet throughout the exchange, taking note of the pleased little smile on his lips.

 

“You really that happy that I don’t have a date?” Gladio snorted.

 

Noctis blinked up at him, two spots of color rising to his cheeks. He ignored Gladio’s question, but the smile on his lips didn’t drop as they made their way through the evening traffic.

  
  


*****

  
  


The saberclaw nests are gone soon after daybreak. Cor tosses a spell of fire into the last one to make sure it doesn’t get infested with a new pack the moment they’re gone. He wipes at his brow and pats Gladio’s shoulder for a job well done. “You did good, kid.” His palm lands directly on Gladio’s bonding spot and Gladio is baring his canines before he can stop himself, an ugly snarl rumbling out of his chest.

 

“Hey, hey, easy.” Cor holds up his palms and backs up a few steps.

 

“Sorry, I, uh. Sorry,” Gladio grunts, fixing his gaze on the flecks of saberclaw blood that stain his own boots.

 

Cor regards him silently and Gladio hears him scent the air around him, knows Cor can probably smell the oncoming rut boiling in his blood. “It’s okay. Come on, let’s report back to the Crow’s Nest and get paid.”

 

Gladio keeps his distance as he follows Cor back to his car the half a mile it takes to get to the parking spot. There’s something in another alpha’s scent that gets Gladio’s hackles up whenever he’s in a rut, doesn’t matter that it’s his childhood idol, and the drive back in Cor’s beat-up Ford is the longest one of his life.

 

When they finally pull in front of the Crow’s Nest in Longwythe, Gladio stumbles out of the car and gulps in the dusty desert air like a drowning man.

 

“That bad, huh?” Cor hums, offering Gladio a sympathetic smile over the roof of the car. “I’ll go and report back to the tipster. Might be better if you wait outside.”

 

“‘Kay. I’ll just... Catch my breath.”

 

Gladio walks circles in front of the gas pumps as he waits for Cor to come back with their money, the restless itch under his skin already worse than it was when he woke up. His rut has been building for weeks, like a slowly simmering menace in his blood, and now it’s finally crashing into him at full speed like a damn freight train.

 

He’s unable to stop himself from spinning on his heels and sniffing after the young omega that parks in front of the gas pumps to refuel her car. She stares at Gladio with startled eyes and starts her engine again, driving away before he can apologize.

 

He leans his arms against the sun-warmed roof of Cor’s car and kicks the tip of his boot against the asphalt. “Shit.”

 

Cor comes back with their reward and hands Gladio his share of the bounty in a small credit chip, the creases on his brow growing deeper as he takes in Gladio’s tense form.

 

“It’s easier in the city where almost everyone is on scent blockers or suppressants, isn’t it?”

 

“I have no idea how alphas in the Outlands even deal with this shit,” Gladio grunts hoarsely.

 

Cor gets into his car and leans over the seat to speak to Gladio through the passenger side window. “You gonna be okay? They need me back in Lucis again, can’t get much time for hunting these days.”

 

Gladio runs his fingers through his hair, the nape of his neck sticky with sweat. “Yeah. I’m good.”

 

“Might wanna get somewhere a little more private before it gets worse,” Cor says pointedly. He starts the car and lets the engine rumble for a moment before hitting the gas. “I hope you thought about what I said to you last night.” He lifts his arm and gives Gladio a wave through the open window as he steers into the road and drives off towards Hammerhead.

 

Gladio hurries to his own rental and finds it right where he left it before he and Cor set out on their bounty hunt. His hands have begun to shake and the key slips in his fingers as he tries to shove it into the ignition.

 

There are a couple of motels in the nearby area, but Gladio doesn’t trust himself enough to rent a room, because Cor was right, he has to find somewhere private. He’s also got his trusty camping gear in the trunk, but staying outdoors when he’s lost in a rut would be even more reckless, no matter how many protective runes there are plastered into the rocks around each haven.

 

He finally manages to get the engine going and he sets course for the coast of Caem, doing his best to ignore the heat in his blood and the mounting ache between his legs as he concentrates on staying on the road.

 

It’s well past nightfall when he finally reaches the old lighthouse and he drives the car as far up the hill as it can go before he stumbles out in a mess of too-long limbs.

 

He’s completely out of breath by the time he makes it to the front door of the house, his chest heaving as he sucks in the cool sea air. Iris and Talcott are seated at the kitchen table while Monica stands at the stove, the smell of the chicken she’s cooking almost offensively strong in Gladio’s nostrils.

 

They all turn to look in his direction when he stumbles in through the door and leans his arm against the nearest wall.

 

“Gladio!” Iris exclaims, her chair tipping over as she jumps up. 

 

She rushes toward him, but Gladio shakes his head and holds up his arm to stop her.

 

“No, Iris, stay there,” Gladio commands. He’d never hurt his own sister, but she’s an alpha like him and Gladio knows he doesn’t possess even a shred of his usual self-control.

 

Iris continues to stare at him, her face twisting with worry, and he must really reek, because both Talcott and Monica have backed against the wall on the other side of the room. Monica is a beta, but Gladio has a suspicion that Talcott will present as an omega in a couple of years time.

 

“It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says, managing a weak smile even as his breaths come out ragged.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Talcott asks, inching a little closer. “Are you injured?”

 

Gladio shakes his head, blowing out a strained chuckle. “Nah, I’m okay, I just need to get a little rest.” He turns his eyes to Iris and shoots her a pleading look. “I need you to take Talcott and Monica with you and go to Lestallum for a few days. I– I need to be alone.”

 

The pink spots that rise to Iris’ cheeks reveal that she knows exactly what’s going on with her brother, but she gets over her embarrassment almost immediately and gives Gladio a firm nod.

 

The house is empty in another fifteen minutes, and Gladio hears Iris honk the horn of Monica’s old pickup truck from the parking area as a final goodbye before they drive away.

 

He hurries up the small flight of stairs, his shirt already off when he shoulders the bedroom door open, his moves ungraceful as he tries to make his way to the closest bed while removing his boots and jeans.

 

His knot is already filling when he gets his fingers around it, the touch unfulfilling, because it doesn’t compare to what the alpha in him really needs. He growls his frustration into the pillow, and there’s only one person on his fevered mind as he thrusts into his fist.

  
  


 

* * *

 

  
  


Noctis didn’t expect his homecoming to be a joyous event, far from it, but when the Regalia speeds down the bridge that connects the Crown City to the lands now annexed to the Empire, it’s all he can do to keep himself from crumbling.

 

He’s been told the Glaive and the Crownsguard are already overseeing the rebuilding efforts, and the Empire is offering some monetary aid as a show of good will now that there’s a fragile peace between Lucis and Niflheim.

 

Noctis scoffs at the notion as he stares out the window, the high-rises at the edge of the city growing larger as Ignis steers them closer and closer to home.

 

“It’s not as bad as I thought,” Prompto observes, and it’s true that most of the damage was contained to the heart of the city while the outer districts fared better.

 

“I wouldn’t speak so soon,” Ignis says gravely from behind the wheel. “I fear we’ve yet to see the full scale of the damage.”

 

The guards recognize their car the moment they pull in front of the main gates and they rush to stare at Noctis, all poise and composure forgotten.

 

“Your majesty,” they gasp in unison, eyes like saucers as they gape at their king.

 

“We’re so happy you’re alive,” one of them says when he finds his voice again. “We’d been hoping you’d come home.”

 

“Congratulations on your marriage,” the guard in the back says, the smile Noctis offers him in return tight at the edges.

 

Ignis presses his foot on the gas pedal to rev the engine a little, and the guards finally remember their duty. They give Noctis a salute and return to their posts, opening the gates to the city.

 

“Shall we head straight for the Citadel?” Ignis asks, meeting Noctis eyes in the rear-view mirror.

 

“You mean what’s left of it?” Noctis grumbles, leaning his chin against his knuckles as he takes in the growing number of buildings that have been reduced to nothing but rubble.

 

Ignis doesn’t respond, taking the familiar route to the heart of the city.

 

Noctis has read all about the damages in the reports he’s been handed in recent weeks, and he knows about the betrayal within the ranks of the Glaive, but reading about it on paper is nothing like seeing it with his own eyes.

 

Noctis feels the car slow down and he knows they’ve arrived, but he’s afraid to look up from his own hands, fisted around the hem of his jacket.

 

“Well. He we are,” Ignis announces with a hollow ring in his voice.

 

“Oh man,” Prompto squeaks, fumbling for the handle to climb out of the car.

 

Noctis finally looks up and he’s at once struck with relief and a sense of loss so vast that all the strength in his limbs seems to melt into the leather seat underneath him.

 

It’s a relief to see the Citadel still stands, but the skycraper is full of blackened holes, three of the four towers missing completely. The steps where he saw his father for the last time have all been destroyed, and Noctis clenches his teeth as he thinks of the flippant, almost impatient manner he’d acted upon his departure.

 

If he’d only known it was to be their final goodbye.

 

The surrounding area has been cleared of rubble and several members of the Crownsguard stand guard in a circle around the plaza. They all take note of Noctis, but none leave their post.

 

“At least the mad general responsible for the destruction was slain by one of our own,” Ignis says, his eyes still trained on the missing towers.

 

“But not before that bastard killed my father,” Noctis growls. 

 

Ignis spins around and gives Noctis’ upper arm a gentle pat. “Do you wish to visit your father’s tomb?”

 

Noctis’ sinks his teeth into his lower lip as it begins to tremble. He nods, his hair falling to his face.

 

“Alright, we’d better get going then if we hope to reach it before nightfall.”

 

There was no official funeral, the city still in chaos in the days after Regis’ death, but the Crownsguard laid their king to rest at the northernmost peak of Insomnia, a place Noctis still remembers from his childhood, because his father once took him there to watch the storm rise from the sea.

 

He remembers clinging to his father’s robes and the comforting weight of Regis’ hand against the crown of his head as he whispered to Noctis to be brave, that every storm was followed by calmer days.

 

“You wanna go alone, Noct?” Prompto asks, spinning around in his seat as Ignis parks the Regalia in front of a small outcrop overlooking the sea.

 

“Yeah,” Noctis nods.

 

“Take as long as you need,” Ignis says as Noctis climbs out of the car and fails to hide how his legs tremble.

 

“Thanks.”

 

His father’s final resting place is in plain sight and the pillars that frame the door look a little unfinished, a clear sign that the tomb was built in a hurry.

 

There’s no light inside and Noctis turns on the flashlight on his phone as he closes the metal door behind his back for some privacy. He sets his phone on the foot of the giant sarcophagus that lies at the center of the room, his own shadow stretching across the arching ceiling as he circles around it.

 

There’s no statue carved in his father’s image on the lid of the coffin, just a smooth stretch of marble. Noctis rests his palm against the cool stone and his throat clicks in the silence as he struggles to swallow.

 

“Hey, Dad,” Noctis nods at the coffin. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, but a lot has happened since I left.” He takes a moment to catch his breath and holds up his finger. “I made it to Altissia, though. Luna and I are married, which means the Niffs should finally leave us alone.”

 

His voice sounds hollow in the empty space, the concrete walls around him giving it an echo.

 

“So... I hope I’ve finally made you proud. I’m sorry that I–” A trail of salt runs down his cheek as he thinks back to the day he left on his ill-fated road trip. “I’m sorry I didn’t take things more seriously. Sorry that I wasn’t here to defend our home with you. I’m sorry, Dad.”

 

Noctis glances to his right when he hears his phone chime and vibrate against the marble. He wipes at his cheek and picks it up, turning it over in his hand.

 

There’s one unread message and he almost drops the phone when he sees who it’s from. He mashes his thumb against the sleek screen and taps furiously at the notification bar until his inbox finally pops open.

 

**20:31**

**From Gladio:**

**I’m so sorry.**

 

Noctis wipes his sleeve against his eyes when his vision starts to grow blurry again. He blows out a trembling breath and stares at the simple sentence on the screen, shaking his head. “You jerk,” he exhales, but there’s no bite in his words, his cheeks dimpling with the relieved smile that pulls on his lips. “About damn time.”

 

Noctis shines the flashlight on his father’s coffin once more, the weight on his shoulder a little lighter now.

 

“Luna thinks we should be free to follow our hearts,” he says, a touch of defiance finding its way into his voice as he stares down at the coffin. He reaches up to slip his fingers under his collar, his bonding spot tender under his touch in spite of his medication. “I’m not gonna forget my duty to Lucis… But I’m gonna follow her advice.”

  
  


*****

  
  


They spend the next three days driving around the city, trying to get a proper picture of the scale of the damage. Prompto finds his mother at one of the aid centers and Noctis is happy for his friend, insisting that Prompto stays behind while Ignis accompanies him to a handful of meetings with city officials about the efforts to rebuild what was lost during the attack.

 

His old apartment was in one of the districts that took heavy damage, and Ignis books them rooms at the Caelum Via. Noctis tries to reach Gladio whenever he has a moment to himself, but all of his messages stay unread like before, and every phone call directs straight to voicemail.

 

He reminds himself that reception is shit in most parts of the Outlands, and if Gladio is out hunting, he might not even check his phone, but the relief he felt only a few days ago is fading fast.

 

He’s about to turn in for the night when his phone buzzes on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a new message, and he fumbles to read it.

 

It’s not from Gladio, but Iris, and Noctis squints at the screen.

 

**21:32**

**From Iris:**

**Noctis, I’m sorry to bother you, but I heard on the radio that you’re back in Lucis**

 

Noctis stares at the dots that blink on the screen, indicating that Iris is composing another message.

 

**21:33**

**From Iris:**

**I’m worried about Gladdy**

 

“ _ What? _ ” Noctis tightens his grip on the phone and brings it closer to his face, his foot tapping against the soft carpet as he tries to will Iris to type faster. The dots keep on blinking, sometimes disappearing altogether, like she’s unsure of what to say to him.

 

He’s about to pull up her number and call her when her message finally comes through.

 

**21:37**

**From Iris:**

**I know, I mean, I suspect that you and my brother... Well, I think you should know that he went into rut three days ago and I haven’t been able to reach him since I left him. He looked really bad, Noct.**

 

**21:39**

**From Iris:**

**I’m sorry, I’m sure you have your hands full, but I know what you mean to Gladdy, and I think you might be able to help.**

 

**21:39**

**To Iris:**

**Where is he???**

 

**21:39**

**From Iris:**

**We left him at the old lighthouse in Cape Caem.**

 

Noctis sends Iris one more quick message, telling her not to worry as he pulls on his behemoth jacket and grabs the keys to the Regalia.

 

He runs into Ignis in the elevator lobby, the can of Ebony in his hands almost slipping when Noctis runs past him and bumps into his shoulder.

 

“ _ Noctis _ ? Where are you going?” Ignis calls after him, following him to the elevators.

 

Noctis smacks his palm against the button and shuffles from foot to foot as he waits for the doors to open for him.

 

“It’s Gladio. He needs me.”

 

“What? You’ve been in contact with him? Where is he?”

 

The elevator finally arrives and Noctis slips in the moment the gap between the doors is wide enough. Ignis clutches his can of Ebony against his chest, stunned to apparent silence.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of him,” Noctis says, and hits the button for the garage.

 

“Noct–”

 

The doors slide shut and Ignis’ voice fades out as the elevator rushes down. Noctis stares at his blurry reflection in the chrome wall, his eyes burning with quiet resolve.

 

The road from Insomnia to the western coast of Lucis is long, and he drives all night, speeding past every single pit stop, pausing only once to refill the Regalia’s gas tank as she begins to run on fumes. 

 

Dawn is about to break in the horizon, but the western sky is still dark behind the old lighthouse when Noctis pulls the car to the small rest area. His eyes sting from lack of sleep, but his resolve remains unwavering as he gets out and begins to warp up the hill.

 

His stamina is almost depleted when he reaches the house, and he can feel he’s balancing on the edge of stasis, but he makes one final warp until his palms are pressed against the door. He pushes it open and the smell that greets him inside hits him like a physical wall.

 

Noctis stumbles back and buries his face in his sleeve, gasping for breath through his mouth, the scent of rut reaching him even through his dulled senses.

 

He’s never smelled anything like it and his stomach churns with nerves even as his blood heats with arousal.

 

Gladio is still the only alpha he’s had a chance to scent without his suppressants, and he breathes out a quiet groan as the dormant omega in him recognizes his scent.

 

The house is quiet, but the bedroom door on the second floor is open and Noctis warps up the stairs.

 

The smell is even stronger inside the mess of a bedroom, leaving Noctis gasping for breath, the suppressants straining to do their job in such close proximity to an alpha in rut.

 

“Gladio!”

 

He rushes to Gladio who lies sprawled on his stomach on one of the beds, the sheets half-ripped and wrapped around his lower body like a snake. The lamp on the nightstand has fallen to the floor and there are chocobo feathers everywhere from torn pillows.

 

Noctis hovers over Gladio’s unconscious form, his hand flinching as he gathers the courage to touch his bare skin.

 

Gladio lets out a quiet grunt as Noctis brushes his fingers against the inked feathers on his shoulder blade.

 

“Gladio? Are you okay?”

 

Gladio is heavy, but Noctis manages to roll him onto his back, and he reaches out to cup his face, brushing his thumb along the seam of his chapped lips. It’s clear that he hasn’t been getting enough to drink and his hair sticks to his cheeks, dark and matted with days worth of sweat and oil.

 

Noctis hurries down the stairs and digs through the fridge until he finds a bottle of water and a fruit he doesn’t recognize, but it must be edible if it’s in the kitchen. He warps back into the bedroom and dumps his findings on the nightstand, hurrying back to Gladio’s side.

 

“Come on, wake up. You gotta drink,” Noctis whispers, leaning down to snake his arms under Gladio’s shoulders.

 

Gladio is a limp weight in his embrace, but Noctis feels his chest fill, hears the deep inhale as he breathes in Noctis’ scent. He may not smell like an omega, but Gladio recognizes his scent anyway.

 

“Noct?”

 

Gladio’s entire body tenses up and he wrenches himself away from Noctis’ arms, his eyes unfocused but wide with alarm as he blinks up at Noctis.

 

“ _ Noct? _ Astrals– How are you here?” Gladio tries to push him away, but Noctis refuses to budge, digging his fingers into the clammy skin of his shoulders.

 

“Hey, it’s ok,” Noctis murmurs, ignoring the stunned look of horror that continues to cling to Gladio’s face. “Come on, when was the last time you had something to drink or eat?”

 

He uncorks the bottle of water and brings it to Gladio’s lips. “Yeah, that’s it,” Noctis smiles as Gladio begins to empty it with greedy gulps. Some of the water spills out from the corners of his mouth, and Noctis dabs the cuff of his bomber jacket against his stubbled chin. “Easy.”

 

He tosses the empty bottle behind his back and hands Gladio the fruit he brought with him. “I have no idea what this is, but you have to eat something.”

 

Gladio gives him a weak chuckle as he takes the fruit in his trembling hands. “Why am I not surprised that you’ve never seen a tika apple.” He bites into the polished skin and breathes out a relieved sigh through his nose.

 

Noctis uses the moment to take another look at Gladio, and it’s clear that the past couple of days have been rough on him. He brushes his thumbs along the dark circles under Gladio’s eyes, the skin around his scar tight and blotchy.

 

“Is it always like this?”

 

“No…” Gladio sighs. “I ain’t had a rut like this since I presented.”

 

“Then why is it different now? What happened?”

 

Gladio lets out a humorless laugh and drops his gaze to his hands. “You, Noct. You’re what happened.”

 

Noctis blinks at him, stunned. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah.” Gladio finishes his apple and licks the lingering juice from his lips. “I actually haven’t been around that many omegas, and you know the ones we have back home never offer much temptation ‘cause I can’t really smell most of them.”

 

Noctis bites his lip as he mulls over Gladio’s words. “So... what you’re saying is that you had a major case of blue balls?”

 

Gladio’s eyes fall almost comically wide and he throws his head back, his laugh weak but genuine. “Smartass.” His hands shoot up and he lets out a startled groan, his nostrils flaring. “Shit…I can feel it coming again,” he pants, throwing Noctis a pleading look. “You have to go, now.”

 

Noctis shakes his head and begins to pull his jacket off his shoulders. “I’m here to help you through it.”

 

“ _ No _ ,” Gladio snarls. He surges forward in the bed, his canines bared, and if he were any other alpha, Noctis would have warped out of the room by now. “It won’t matter that your scent is dulled,” Gladio pants, fisting the sheets in his hands. “Don’t you get it? It’s not your scent that I want, it’s you, Noct.” He swallows and his eyes flit to the ring on Noctis’ finger. “And I can’t have you.”

 

Noctis doesn’t know if he’s more relieved or frustrated as he pushes himself into Gladio’s personal space. Relieved because Gladio clearly shares his feelings, and frustrated at his refusal to accept them.

 

“Why do you always have to be so goddamn self-sacrificing?” Noctis demands, his nails digging into his palms. “You deserve to be happy just as much as everyone else.” He throws his leg over Gladio’s thigh and climbs into his lap, ignoring the shock in his amber eyes. “We both do.”

 

Gladio opens his mouth to argue and grips Noctis’ hips to lift him away, but Noctis refuses to budge. He presses his knees against Gladio’s hips and surges closer, silencing him with a kiss.

 

Gladio’s lips are rough against his own, but his mouth tastes sweet as Noctis licks between his lips, humming contently, because he’s wanted to do this from the moment he snuck out of Gladio’s room that night in Lestallum.

 

Gladio’s hands freeze for a moment, but as the final traces of hesitation melt away, his fingers dig into Noctis’ hips and he pulls him flush against his chest.

 

He kisses Noctis like he’s starving for him, his scent growing stronger as his hands slip under the hem of Noctis’ t-shirt to trace the length of his spine with his sword-calloused fingers.

 

Noctis feels Gladio’s hips surge up underneath the sheets, and he can’t help the satisfied, almost smug smile that spreads on his lips when they finally part to catch their breaths.

 

“For your information, Luna agrees with me. As does Gentiana,” Noctis announces. “I think a divine blessing is as good as it’s gonna get.”

 

Gladio blinks at him, speechless, and the stupidly endearing smile that slowly rises to his lips lights up something warm in Noctis’ chest.

 

He runs his fingers through Gladio’s matted hair and brushes his knuckles against the line of his jaw. “Come on, let me help you through this.”

 

Gladio’s pupils are blown wide and he buries his face in Noctis’ neck, his fingers twitching against Noctis’ shoulder blades as he tries to scent him in spite of the suppressants.

 

Noctis’s smile falters and he gives Gladio an apologetic look, hopes he doesn’t find him lacking. “I’m sorry– I’m never gonna be able to smell like a proper omega for you.”

 

Gladio cups the back of his neck and nuzzles Noctis’ cheek with his nose. “I told you, it ain’t your scent I’m after, Noct.”

 

He grabs a hold of the hem of Noctis’ shirt and Noctis holds his arms up and lets Gladio undress him, leaning in for another kiss as Gladio’s hands drop down to work on his belt.

 

“I’ve wanted this so much that I felt like I was gonna lose my mind just thinking about that night in Lestallum,” Gladio murmurs against his lips.

 

“Oh, I can relate,” Noctis grins. 

 

By the time his jeans are discarded on the floor and they’ve moved under the covers, Gladio is panting like he’s slain a pack of dualhorns. He thrusts his hips up and Noctis has to press his palms against Gladio’s chest to steady himself as he sways with the movement.

 

“Are you sure about this, Noct?” Gladio pants, his eyes glazed and a little wild as he stares up at Noctis.

 

Noctis bends down and presses his brow against Gladio’s. “You know I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” he says firmly.

 

“‘Kay.” Gladio reaches down between them, seeking out Noctis’ opening, and he lets out a distressed groan when he finds Noctis is too dry to take him in.

 

Noctis flushes as he realizes that he didn’t plan this far, too desperate to get to Gladio as fast as he could. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can get– Not anymore. It’s the meds,” he mutters, his eyes darting to the side.

 

Gladio nudges Noctis’ chin with his finger and surges up to kiss him. “Noct, it’s ok, just you being here is more than enough for me.” He squeezes his eyes shut as his hips jerk up so hard that Noctis almost falls off his lap. “I’m gonna have to get off, though...”

 

Noctis looks between their bodies and his lips part in quiet surprise when he sees Gladio’s knot already swelling, pressed against the crease of Noctis’ right thigh.

 

Gladio buries his nose against Noctis’ bonding spot again, and it must be half-instinctual because Noctis knows Gladio can’t get a proper scent from him. He lets out a startled gasp when he feels Gladio thrust up, the head of his cock sliding over his opening.

 

Gladio gives his flank a reassuring squeeze. “It’s ok, I’m not gonna force myself inside you, I’m just gonna...” He sucks in a sharp breath and begins to stroke himself as he continues to rub against Noctis, his knuckles digging into Noctis’ cheeks as he pushes his cock between them.

 

It’s nothing like the undiluted pleasure he felt on their first night in Lestallum, but Noctis buries his nose into Gladio’s neck, flicking his tongue out to lap at his bonding spot where the smell of his rut is the strongest. His own cock is hard between their bodies, sliding over the well-defined muscles of Gladio’s stomach.

 

“Noct,” Gladio whines, squeezing his fist around his knot in a desperate attempt to fool himself into thinking he’s buried in Noctis’ warm body. His muscles flex and tremble as he begins to come, and Noctis winds his arms around Gladio’s shoulders, trying to hold his much larger body in his embrace.

 

It goes on for a while and it’s clear that Gladio is already beyond the point of exhaustion after suffering three days of his rut on his own, his hips giving small, aborted jerks, too tired to move as he spills all over Noctis’ lower back.

 

His release is warm and so copious that Noctis feels it spill down the backs of his thighs. He rocks his hips in a frantic rhythm until the skin between their bellies grows slick with his own come.

 

Gladio’s knot stays swollen even after he’s got nothing left to spill and he keeps his hand fisted around it as he begins to drift back from the haze of his orgasm. He noses at Noctis’ cheek and gives his ass a possessive squeeze. “Now you smell like me,” he murmurs, sounding pleased with himself.

 

Noctis lowers his mouth back on Gladio’s shoulder and mouths at the heated skin, the hint of teeth making his desire for a bond clear.

 

Gladio blinks up at Noctis, his nostrils flaring with his sharp inhale. “Noct…”

 

Noctis lays a trail of kisses over Gladio’s bonding spot, and he moves his hand up to stroke his thumb against the scar under Gladio’s left eye. “I want to,” he whispers. “And I know you want it too.”

 

Gladio closes his eyes and his chest expands with his inhale as he tilts his head and offers his shoulder to Noctis. “I do.” He lets out a broken howl as Noctis’ teeth sink into his flesh, too blunt to break the skin, but they both feel it as the permanent mating bond begins to take form between them.

 

Noctis eyes roll up as he tastes Gladio’s pheromones on his tongue, and he can’t help but wonder how much stronger it would be were his senses not so dulled.

 

Gladio throws his leg over Noctis’ thigh and reaches up to tug on his hair and tilt his neck. He surges up and sinks his own teeth into Noctis’ shoulder, and Noctis jerks back, his breath catching in his throat at the sensation.

 

He buries his fingers in Gladio’s hair, tugging possessively. “Promise me–” Noctis pants against Gladio’s neck, “Promise me you’ll  _ never  _ leave my side again.” 

 

“I promise,” Gladio whispers, reassuring Noctis with another gentle kiss to his freshly–bitten bond.

  
  


*******

 


End file.
